


The Thug's Rugrats

by Ugeui



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cute, Cutesy, Domestic, Fluff, Gangsters, Young, shits and giggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ugeui/pseuds/Ugeui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alleyway. A cardboard box. A curious Slick.</p><p>What could happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thug's Rugrats

A wispy trail of smoke followed the man, clad in black from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. A black, classy hat perched atop his head, on top of his styled hair which he thought was rather dashing. His face was scrunched up, almost as if set into a permanent scowl. Squinted eyes and a furrowed brow, matched with a pointed nose and a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth made most people cross the street when they saw him. He was wearing a large, black trench coat, which hid his dark grey Italian suit. Pointed shoes lead his way as he strolled at a casual pace.

The stars twinkled in the sky, flanked by a black canvas that stretched as far as the eye could see. Tall, concrete skyscrapers and quaint shops formed his backdrop, with the occasional tree punctuating the grey, concrete everything.

He continued strolling. His 5"11 self turned the corner and reached into his pockets to search for his keys. After an ecstasy of fumbling, he finally held them triumphantly in his small but deadly hands. He neared his doorstep, a dark brown slab of wood that held the barest of contrast to it's surroundings. 

He flicked his cigarette onto the ground before he inserted his key, hearing a comforting _click_ as he swung it open. He was met with the sight of grubby stairs, complimented with what was a bright green shaggy carpet that now looked like somebody vomited everywhere and the cleaners were too lazy to sort it out. Striped, faded wallpaper that used to lighten the mood, now just seemed depressing. But he didn't care, he had seen it a million times. 

Creek after creek filled the air, as the trench coat climbed the stairs. He reached the top floor, where his apartment door stood. He opened the door with a jangling of keys and entered his apartment. The first thing that met his sight was another suit-clad man, hat-less (of course, he was inside) and reading a newspaper, wearing a pair of reading glasses. His lips were pursed, as if he was thinking about something. He was sitting on a battered but decent armchair in the corner of the room smoking a cigarette.

"Droog, whatta' I tell ya 'bout smokin' inside the house"

"S'alright Slick, I'm by the window"

"Doesn't matter, stinks up the place"

Slick hung up his coat and hat, to reveal his suit. He fiddled with his tie for a bit before sitting in another armchair across from him and brought out his own newspaper. 

In the centre of the room was an old sofa positioned opposite the TV. On it, sat a large, muscular man and a smaller, rounder person. They were completely focused on the scene unfolding on the TV. 

 _"Some sorta romance movie"_  Slick thought

The couple on the TV embraced and after a moment or too, came together into a passionate kiss. The smaller one whooped, while the bigger one sighed, as if he wished he was the one being passionately kissed.

"Boxcars, Deuce, turn it down will ya? Don't wanna let the whole neighbourhood hear ya' unhealthy obsession with those dumb rom-coms of yours" Slick remarked.

The smaller one, who was called Deuce, replied "They aren't dumb, Slick. They're funny, and cool, and romantic."

"Yeah" grunted Boxcars. "They're pretty good once you get past the whole sappiness schtick. 'Sides, I wouldn't mind being in onna' those myself"

Boxcars sighed again, cupping his face in both hands and smiled contentedly at the TV.

Droog just rolled his eyes at the spectacle, it being a daily occurrence.

After a few minutes, when the main character had finally got the girl and they had run off together into the sunset, on a white stallion, Boxcars stood up and stretched, letting out a small moan. Deuce got up and did the same thing, covering his mouth to yawn and sat back onto the couch. He picked up the remote and flicked idly through the channels, settling for a nature documentary.

Boxcars made his way to the kitchen, which was split off from the rest of the living room. He opened the fridge and noticed that they had run out of milk. He shut the bare fridge and opened the cabinet next to it. No bread.

"Just our luck. Slick, go out and get some bread an' milk fer' us"

"Hey, who'd you think you're orederin' round here?" Slick replied, one eyebrow cocked.

"C'mon, it's yer' turn"

Slick let out a breath and muttered something about knives and blood.

He collected his hat and decided to leave his coat. No point in bringing it a few blocks.

He exited swiftly, quickly going down the stairs and out the front door. It was almost eight, which should mean that the convenience store was probably open. He set off with a brisk pace, getting a cigarette packet out of his pocket and lighting one. He let it hang from his mouth as it started to drizzle a bit. He started jogging to try and escape the rain, which turned into a sprint as it started to pour. He spat his cigarette out. No point in keeping it. 

He arrived at the convenience store a little wet, but not too bad. The thought of the run back was what pissed Slick off though. He grumbled a bit about Boxcars before searching the store for a loaf of bread and a pint of milk. He bought them, along with a small chocolate bar. He grunted at the cashier before exiting the store. 

 _"Fuck. Might as well get it over and done with."_ He thought to himself.

He ran out of the store. clutching a plastic bag and his hat so it wouldn't fall off. As he passed an alleyway, he thought he saw something. He kept running, but started slowing down. He thought about what he was thinking about doing. It wasn't like him, but, then again, what what the harm?. If it was what he thought it was, then...

_"Aw, fuck it."_

He ran back to the alleyway. He was already soaking wet, what did it matter a few more minutes in the rain?

The alleyway was a dump, literally. With trash bags littered everywhere and soggy rats playing with them, it wasn't a pleasant sight. The smell was foul, but it was bearable, as Slick gingerly made his way through the maze of rubbish. 

After an eternity picking his way through the mess, he reached what he had thought he saw. A cardboard box, that seemed to be... shaking?  

He reached his hand towards it slowly, leaning away from it at the same time. You never know what littered the streets nowadays, could be some sort of deranged druggie, a drunken hobo, even a clever mugger looking for their next victim. 

He opened the cardboard box's flaps and peered inside, his jaw slackening as he saw what was inside.

"Fuck"


End file.
